A song of white snow in farewell to field-clerk Wu going home - Cen Can

A song of white snow in farewell to field-clerk Wu going home – Cen Can

The north wind rolls the white grasses and breaks them; And the Eighth-month snow across the Tartar sky Is like a spring gale, come up in the night, Blowing open the petals of ten thousand peartrees. It enters the pearl blinds, it wets the silk curtains; A fur coat feels cold, a cotton mat flimsy; Bows become rigid, can hardly be drawn And the metal of armour congeals on the men; The sand-sea deepens with fathomless ice, And darkness masses its endless clouds; But we drink to our guest bound home from camp, And play him barbarian lutes, guitars, harps; Till at dusk, when the drifts are crushing our tents And our frozen red flags cannot flutter in the wind, We watch him through Wheel-Tower Gate going eastward. Into the snow-mounds of Heaven-Peak Road…. And then he disappears at the turn of the pass, Leaving behind him only hoof-prints.